


Blue Eyes

by AdaMarina



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Gladstone will probably show up at some point, So yeah Donald adopts a cat, he doesn't like cats, so that'll be fun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-06 00:21:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12805530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdaMarina/pseuds/AdaMarina
Summary: The cat had deep blue eyes, blue like the ocean, and long silky black fur, black like the night sky, speckled with white, white like the stars hanging in the sky.ORDonald takes in a lovable stray cat.





	1. Blue

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah uhhh instead of like doing what I should be doing I'm writing this
> 
> This wasn't even uhhh on my to-write list? It just kind of happened?
> 
> But anyway, this story here is just gonna be a collection of short little stories dealing with Donald, the cat, and his family.

The cat had deep blue eyes, blue like the ocean, and long silky black fur, black like the night sky, speckled with white, white like the stars hanging in the sky.

It stopped Donald in his tracks as it ran up to him, letting out a long mewl. It was hardly more than a kitten- Donald didn’t know much about cats, but if he had to wager a guess it was a teen, just barely past its childhood. Either way, it was young and as it rubbed itself against Donald’s legs he could feel every bone hidden by its mussed fur.

It had blue eyes, blue like his, and white-speckled black fur, like the night sky he so loved. Maybe that was what made Donald pick it up.

The cat purred, rubbing itself against Donald. He looked but found no collar, only malnutrition- a hungry, homeless cat that was still almost a kitten.

His heart broke for it. Maybe that was why he set it on the passenger seat of his car.

Maybe that was why he drove straight for the pet store, while the cat climbed into his lap and settled down.

Maybe that was why he spent more than his food budget to buy it a bed, food, litter and trays, bowls (he even splurged to get one of those fountain water bowls, having heard that cats preferred to drink from running water), a few cheap toys, flea medicine and advice on how to nurture it back to full health.

It had blue eyes, blue like Della’s, and white-speckled black fur, like the night sky she so loved. Maybe that was what made Donald take it home.

Well past the children’s bedtimes, Donald made his way to the houseboat with the brand new materials and a cat on his shoulder uninterrupted. When he was inside, groceries put away and the cat’s stuff set up and the bowls filled with the advised amount, he sat on the couch, tired from a day of work out on the pier, just watching his new companion explore.

He quickly discovered that the cat was much more interested in the wrappers than the toys.

When he retired to bed, the cat followed happily. He discovered, when he laid down, that the cat preferred to curl up with him than in its own bed. It purred, curling up against him.

It was warm, and for the first time in a while Donald started to think maybe things would be okay.

As the rocking of the boat and the gentle purrs of the cat lulled him to sleep, Donald thought _I should really give this cat a name..._


	2. Sausage Stealer

Donald was woken early the next morning not by children but by a weight on his chest.

Opening his eyes, Donald came face to face with blue eyes, and for just a moment he was confused. Confused, because why was there a cat in his bedroom?

Then the events of the night before made themselves known as the cat mewled, clearly wanting something. Somehow, Donald knew, the cat was saying, “Feed me.” Just like his picky little eaters, when they were babies.

“Alright, alright,” he sighed, carefully pushing the cat off of his chest before sitting up. “It’s breakfast time anyway.”

It wasn’t really- it was only six in the morning, and breakfast was at seven-thirty sharp- but Donald was awake now and he figured he might as well eat since he was up. So, he slipped out of bed and shuffled to the kitchen, the cat eagerly following him.

He refilled the cat’s bowl before wandering over to the fridge. He kept it stocked despite the mansion’s fridge being full to the brim- stocked just in case. Just in case for what? Well, just in case- just in case he felt like staying at the houseboat, just in case he and Scrooge had yet another fight, just in case a storm kept him from being able to cross the yard, just in case it snowed... just in case.

Besides, as much as he enjoyed Mrs. Beakley’s cooking, he preferred his own. 

So as his new fluffy companion chowed down, Donald fried some eggs, sausage and hashbrowns. It was small, simple, but filling. By the time Donald sat down to eat, his cat had already finished eating and leapt up on the table.

“No,” Donald immediately said, but he didn’t fight as the cat snagged a link of sausage. “Alright but that’s all you get. This is people food.”

The cat focused entirely on chewing the sausage, purring as it did so.

Despite himself, Donald chuckled at the sight. “The kids will love you,” he murmured, reaching out and petting the cat. “I’ll even let them name you.”

As if summoned, the door suddenly burst open and four children came running inside the boat, laughing, and Donald saw the dart guns in their hand. Webby dodged Dewey’s shot, which flew right towards Donald and the cat. Almost on instinct, Donald grabbed his knife and hit the dart out of the air.

None of the children seemed to notice as they raced through the boat. The cat watched them, seeming almost- though not quite- interested as it finished the sausage it stole.

“Good morning, Uncle Donald!” Huey greeted as he dove into the booth, narrowly avoiding Louie’s darts. “Why’re you eating?”

“I woke up early,” Donald answered, briefly reaching over to pat his nephew’s head. 

“So did we!” Dewey chirped happily, poking his head out from around the boat’s funnel. “We- agh!” He staggered back as he was nailed in the forehead. “Man down, man down!”

“This isn’t a team game!” Louie reminded his brother as he triumphantly ran to the couch. However, he stopped in his tracks as his eyes fell upon Donald’s new little friend. “Uncle Donald, there’s a cat on the table.”

“I know,” Donald answered, taking a bite of his hashbrowns as he watched Webby shoot Louie. 

“Why is there a cat on the table?” Webby asked curiously, skipping closer to the table to peer at the cat. The cat looked back at her, mewling. “Aww, it’s so cute!”

Huey peered up from the booth, curious. “Wow, she’s a pretty cat too!”

Dewey walked over, rubbing his forehead. “Since when have you had a cat, Uncle Donald?”

“Since last night,” Donald told them, setting his fork down on his plate. “It doesn’t have a name yet.”

“She,” Huey corrected. “The cat’s a she.”

“Then _she_ doesn’t have a name yet,” Donald corrected.

“Ooh, can we name her?!” Webby asked, excited.

“If you four can agree on something, sure.”

The four children looked at each other excitedly as they climbed into the seats at the table, Dewey and Louie in the booth on either side of Donald and Huey and Webby in the chairs.

The cat seemed to preen at their attention, lying down and purring as all eyes were on her.

“Oh great,” Donald started sarcastically, “she’s a diva.”

“All cats are divas, Uncle Donald.”

**Author's Note:**

> Any suggestions for a name?


End file.
